Phil Volatile

I__ in love with my corporate girlfriend,with the Cyclops heart

Some people are hard to forget, but some people are hard to remember.

to live asubstance-freelife under thepressures ofthe daily grindis state-sponsoredsuicide

I hate forcing myself to go to bed to avoid committing suicide.

And these are the sametype of people who killthe innocent andjustify it by saying__hey__e gone to bewith Jesus now__ut we won__ talkabout how theycrucified Him, too

I used to fear things like not having enough alcohol and drugs, or the money to get them. Now I fear someone holding me down and physically forcing me to take drugs and drink alcohol. I fear that for some reason I wouldn't be allowed or wouldn't be able to read anymore.

When I think about the past and how blind I was in that life, I compare it to being a god and losing everything when being cast out. I had the unlimited power to destroy myself and everything around me. It__ like having been in a cave for years and I__ finally out of the cave. The sun burns my eyes and skin. I don__ recognize my surroundings. No one looks authentic, and now I__ on the hunt for people that have the pieces to my puzzle that will help me on my quest. I have no cave to hide in, and I__ just left with the sediment of a previous life and my own mortality.

Maybe someday I can find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but will lack the strength to lift it anymore. Then, I will think to empty the coin from the pot, but will lack the genius to carry out the said act. Later, I will be approached by someone who will ask me about the story of the pot of gold. I will attempt to explain the story to them in the best way that I can.The person might then ask me, __ow much of it was true?_ and to them I shall respond with a question.__ow much do you have believed of it to be of truth and be not farce?_ They will ponder over what has been asked of them. They will solemnly look first to the ground, and then to the sky, seeking the divine answer to disarm, or perhaps the answer to their own question. After much time spent rehearsing the question and answer in their head, they will have finally reached the answer.__alf__alf of it I believe were true._ They will say to me with complete confidence, and then that confidence will subside assertively into a question. Feeling flustered and unsure of themselves, with their face representing melting wax, they will again look to me for an answer.__alf of it was true then,_ I will reply to them with my assertiveness. Puzzled and dumbfounded, the person will ask me, __ow was half of it true then?__ will reply to this person in a sincere attempt to gain their confidence and instill wisdom in them.__ cannot tell you what is right or wrong, only what I think is right or wrong. If you believe that half were true, then half were true. If you believe that all of it lies in truth, then all of it were divinely true. If you find that it is absurd and could not share any truth, then there be no truth in the matter. It is your perception that has brought you to your conclusion, not mine. For clearly, if you are thinking about what be true and what be not true, then I have done my job in giving you something to think about, but I cannot think or decide for you.

And somewhereout there,in the river ofaddicts, alcoholics,wife beaters,doormats,overeducated legalized thieves,fascist police,and bitter rivalries__omeone told meit__ a good city,and I don__ knowwhat__ more frightening

It was the most beautiful moment that was so perfect you felt like you could just die. It was like the first time you ever heard Dido and Aeneas_ __hen I am laid in earth._ A moment so pure you feel like you__e dreaming and begin to question your own mortality that could be capable of and rival such innocent beauty.

I talk about writing and write so much because aside from music, it__ the only thing giving me peace and reason and purpose. Everyone is looking for answers but I don__ have them and I__ not the answer, but I feel like if I could see the face of God, I__ be better, healed__bsolved. I feel like a bastard and like I__ pushing a Ponzi scheme every time someone comes to me for guidance and I push them to the __ight_ path when I__ just as lost as they are. And it makes me feel like shit every time someone wants to look up to me, or when people call me strong or brave or amazing or want to tell me how __reat_ I am. And then, the next moment, I__ fine, until the next tide of emotion comes again. I__ just a person who__ had a lot of time to think__ flawed and fucked-up person.

Fear is the vehicle in which love can do its worst.

Two kinds ofpeople will love you:those who confessit, and those whoshow you, likecards on a table,because love isa gamble

and tonight we held each other, one last time,like a dance to aslow songon an empty floor, underneath a singledisco ballin front of no oneat all

There__ a universalunderstanding betweenmen of the silent sorrowa man endures whenhe loses a woman heloves

AdiosHer pretty picturelying on theground was likethe topplingof somefascistregimeAnd burningthe photograph,was thecelebration

But now that I__ scrubbingtoilets on my hands & knees,with four degrees,I realize that one escape routeleads to another

Failure is the new success.